


What You Deserve

by temporaryistemporary



Series: a chosen family [4]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Again, Bad Dad Philza, Mentioned Floris | Fundy, Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Post Doomsday, Prison Dream pog, Protective Wilbur Soot, Resurrected Wilbur Soot, the prison still scares me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:00:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29004123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporaryistemporary/pseuds/temporaryistemporary
Summary: Wilbur sits on the edge of the ruins and reflects on his actions and a certain conversation with an imprisoned green man.Takes place after Peace
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: a chosen family [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119869
Comments: 6
Kudos: 218
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	What You Deserve

**Author's Note:**

> *WARNING* death threats and talk of Wilbur’s death
> 
> This is written a little weird because I wanted to try something out. Basically Wilbur visited Dream in prison and had a talk with him and is now thinking ‘bout shit.

_“Y’know, out of all the people on this server, I really wasn’t expecting_ you _to be the first one to visit me.”_

_“Yeah? And why’s that?”_

* * *

Wilbur stared impassively into the bottom of the crater. It should worry him, how often he came back here, sitting at the edge of such a large drop, gazing into the hole where his home used to be. Where _his_ nation used to be.

But it was a good spot to think. Most of the former citizens tended to avoid the area as much as possible, not wanting to be reminded of its obliteration. That left it open for Wilbur to sit, undisturbed.

* * *

_“Figured you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. You were always a lot more interesting than the others, though. I was actually disappointed when you died. You used to be so much fun.”_

_“I was out of my mind.”_

_“Same thing. I had wondered if that would carry over when you got resurrected but I guess not. It’s such a shame, really.”_

* * *

It should’ve made him sad, seeing L’Manberg like this. But it didn’t. It just made him angry. Angry for everything he put his boys through for this land. Angry for everything they went through for it after he died.

They deserved so much better than crumbling under the pressure of politics and war.

* * *

_“What happened to you?”_

_“I was outplayed by two teenagers and thrown into an impenetrable prison where I’ll rot away for the foreseeable future. I thought that much was obvious.”_

_“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”_

* * *

Fundy, his son, his little champion.

He’d loved him since the day he found him, huddling under a spruce tree in a small wooded area not too far from the village Wilbur had been visiting. The child had been shaking from the rain and the cold and he looked so small. Couldn’t have been too much older than his younger brother (Wilbur’s heart cracked at the thought of Tommy out on his own in the middle of nowhere, cold and frightened and hungry).

He had coaxed the child closer with the promise of food and shelter, and soon found himself with his arms full of a shivering fox hybrid. Wilbur learned his name on the walk back to the inn, learned even more about the boy via a note that was clumsily shoved into his hands as he passed Fundy a bowl of mushroom stew.

The note was short and horrifying. It told the story of a mother who just wanted to protect her son. Of a village that was so, _so_ cruel to those that were different. It begged for compassion, for safety on behalf of the child. It expressed regret and sorrow and apologized for not being there. It was signed, _Sally_.

Wilbur didn’t want to think too hard on why the woman hadn’t been able to go with her son (he could hazard a few guesses, and none of them were good). He vowed from then on that he would protect this child, for Sally. He already had a kid brother at home that he was practically raising, and another child that he had started looking after, and Phil most likely wouldn’t question it if another kid were to appear. He hardly noticed his own children as is. Hadn’t even said anything when Tubbo was brought home. What was one more kid to look after, anyway?

But of course, because he was Wilbur, he fucked it all up. He had ignored him, he had said things he didn’t mean, and he had pressed a button and ruined it all.

* * *

_“I’m not sure I do. I’m the same as I’ve always been.”_

_“No, you’re not.”_

_“What makes you say that?”_

_“For one, you’ve been put in a cell with no way out for attempting to manipulate the entire server and murder a child.”_

_“Well-”_

_“For two, you are_ completely _alone.”_

_“...”_

* * *

Tubbo, his empathetic boy, the little Bee that somehow became a leader to so many.

They had found the boy sleeping in a box. It was one of the few far from home excursions that Wilbur felt comfortable bringing his younger brother along, some of their crops had died in the harsh winter and they needed replacements. It was getting late, and they had been heading home when Wilbur had seen him, tiny and curled up with nothing but a thin blanket to shield him from the biting wind. They couldn’t leave him, his brother wouldn’t allow it and neither would Wilbur’s conscience.

So they had departed from the village, the small child in tow. The two younger boys had hit it off near instantly and by the time they made it back to the house, Tubbo, as they learned he liked to be called, had decided they were best friends. Wilbur grew more and more amused as the days went on, as he watched Tubbo, who he learned was a year older than Tommy, drag his brother around with no protest from the normally loud child. He also learned Tubbo _loved_ bees, and was so excited to find out there were colonies in the nearby forest. Wilbur would often find him sitting near the flowers and watching as the honeybees fluttered around, earning him a teasing nickname after the small creatures.

Tubbo had told them his dad was supposed to come back for him. Had told him to wait and then disappeared into the swarm of people. Wilbur had told him he’d try to locate him, and he did look. But he could never seem to find anyone even close to resembling his Bee, in looks or personality. Eventually Tubbo stopped asking.

* * *

_“I’m not here to talk about you though.”_

_“What do you want then? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t really have anything I can give you.”_

_“I don’t_ want _anything from you.”_

_“Nothing?”_

_“Definitely not. I just came here to give you a word of warning.”_

_“...and what would that be?”_

* * *

Tommy, his right hand man, his little brother, his _Toms_.

Wilbur didn’t know how Phil found him. Just that his father had shown up one day from a market trip, back when his presence had been normal around the house, with a bundle in his arms that babbled in a nonsensical way. Phil had called the baby Theseus, but little Wilbur, who had thought the name was dumb, had called him Tommy. The teeny thing couldn’t even say words yet, the closest thing being the delighted _“Moo!”_ he had let out upon seeing the cow plushie Wilbur had dug out from his old toys. He had been wrapped around Tommy’s little finger ever since.

He was there for Tommy’s first word ( _“Cow!”_ ), had been there to see Tommy take his first wobbly steps, had held his kid brother when he was sick and couldn’t sleep, and had comforted him as he sobbed in Wilbur’s arms and wondered why their dad was never home ( _“Does he not want us anymore, Wilby?”_ ).

Wilbur had practically raised Tommy himself, watched him grow into a headstrong, confident teen. Had taught him to read and write and fight. He was so, _so_ proud of his little brother.

And then Wilbur had died. Out of his mind and wanting to be done with it all, had begged for death and slipped away in his fathers arms. Leaving his Toms behind.

* * *

_“Dream, listen to me and listen well. I’m telling you this now because I know you’ll figure out some way to get out of here eventually, if you don’t already have one.”_

_“...”_

* * *

Wilbur had died and come back, and everything was different.

Fundy was angry. At him, at Phil, at L’Manberg. And he had every right to be. He had been through so much shit. He had tried to help, had done his best to assist those around him and had been shunned at every turn.

Tubbo was apathetic. He looked so tired and his emotions came in quick bursts like fireworks, fizzling out just as fast. His face remained carefully blank most of the time, only showing small twitches of the lips or barely there movement of his brow.

Tommy was quiet. He still spoke but at a lower volume and not in his usual style of word vomit. He flinched at raised voices, and hesitated when taking anything, like it would be stolen back at any moment.

Everything was different and it was all wrong. Wilbur hated it. Hated that even with Dream locked up that his boys were still suffering from all the pain caused on the server. And Wilbur knew he was partially to blame, and he was doing what he could to make up for all the hurt he caused. It was slow work but it would be worth it, in the end.

* * *

_“If you so much as_ look _in the direction of_ any _of my boys, I don’t care how fast you run, or where you try to hide, I will_ hunt you down _. I will follow you until you can’t run anymore and I will inflict every bit of pain that you have caused everyone on this server back on you tenfold. You’re going to be begging for me to end you by the time I’m done. There won’t be a place in this world, or any other, where you can hide from me. Not even Technoblade would be able to protect you.”_

_“You can’t possibly-”_

_“I can and I will. There is nothing you or anyone else can do to stop me. November 16th will look like a practice run compared to what I’ll do. Are we clear?”_

* * *

Wilbur had already fucked up, he knew that. But now, he would do everything in his power to make it up to his boys. Anything.

* * *

_“Are we_ clear _?”_

_“....yes.”_

* * *

  
For his boys, the world.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT  
> I’m sorry but I need to scream about this somewhere. I just learned that badboyhalo’s canon height in the SMP is fucking 9’6” and I CANT DO THIS TODAY! Him being nearly 10ft tall makes the whole egg thing so much more terrifying.  
> Also, also how we feeling about awesamdad because I’m 100% going to be writing about that


End file.
